


Happy Birthday, Tom Riddle

by Darksidefan5



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Fem! Harry Potter - Freeform, Gen, Harriet Potter - Freeform, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-24 19:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22063411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darksidefan5/pseuds/Darksidefan5
Summary: It starts as a simple trip. And December 31st is both the best and worst day of the year.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 17
Kudos: 220





	1. Chapter 1

It took her three hours to find the orphanage. 

She wasn't very familiar with London to begin with and her rudimentary mental map was not sufficient whatsoever for this endeavor. Had it occurred to her to bring an actual map, or at the very least consult one, before starting this journey? Of course not! she thought as she trudged down what she swore was the same street for the third time. She was Harry Potter and planning ahead was not her forte. 

At first, she tried to ask for directions, but it quickly became apparent that her appearance was very off-putting to the people in the 1930s. It wasn't like she wearing her wizarding robes or anything particularly witchy. But evidently her old muggle jeans, a jumper, and a thick coat were too 90s for these people. 

She'd hoped to just blend in a bit, be practically invis-

And she hadn't even thought to grab her invisibility cloak either! Harry came to a complete stop in the middle of the walkway and nearly smacked herself on the head. She let out a very unladylike groan which earned her a few extra odd stares. 

It wasn't long after that for Harry to really debate on just going home. This was a pointless venture anyways. She wasn't going to change anything and there hadn't been much more to this trip than morbid curiosity. 

But the 30s were sort of interesting. It gave her a sense of stepping onto an alien planet. Or into the Wizarding World for the first time. 

There were a few buildings and places she recognized and it filled her a weird sense of nostalgia. No, she thought. Nostalgia isn't the right word for this. 

The afternoon sun began to wane and Harry's stomach growled. She hadn't eaten lunch, had she? 

But then she heard it - a piercing, terrified child's scream. 

Her empty stomach instantly forgotten, Harry dashed around the corner, wand drawn and a spell ready to be loosed.

And then she saw it - Wool's Orphanage. 

And Harry realized she wasn't about to happen upon a sudden massacre.

In the small front yard of the orphanage, children played, completely carefree and unaware of the turmoil the rest of England was currently in. A little blonde girl ran through the sparse grass, her laughing shriek echoing as other kids chased her. 

Harry stopped short across the way, taking in the various groups of children that caroused in the yard. But there was no dark lord; no torture, suffering or death. It took her a long moment for her body to catch up with her brain and lower her wand. And it was another moment after that for her to realize she needed to breathe. 

It'd been almost a year since his fall, but Voldemort and his Death Eaters had certainly left their mark. 

Taking several deep breaths, Harry tried to find her peace. Maybe she should take up Hermione's offer of finding a therapist. 

Harry found her focus moving to the children, watching them enjoy lives that should have been miserable. It wasn't long before she made it to the orphanage's gate, the last defense that kept them in an imaginary bubble, safe from the rest of the world. 

They all looked, well, happy. Or relatively so at least. 

...Did he laugh and play like the rest of them? 

Harry gripped the bars of the gate and peered through. There were a handful of boys with blond hair, red, brown...

"Who are you?" 

Harry looked down and found the object of her childhood terror blinking up at her with innocent eyes. 

She didn't think she would be able to even recognize him at this age, but it was either magic or instinct that made her know who he was immediately. 

He wore a starched gray shirt and matching trousers like the other children. His hair was cropped short, likely as a convenience for the orphanage staff. But his eyes held something indescribable. It wasn’t quite a normal child’s inquisitiveness that led him to her. 

When she hadn’t yet answered him, a sort of darkness fell across his eyes. 

“Are you here to look at the babies?” His tone had a cold edge. 

“Babies? What? No. I’m-“ Harriet stopped short. This was Voldemort - a child yes, but still Voldemort. His eyes weren't red but they already held the same intensity. 

Harry swallowed the lump in her throat. He was a child. “I’m not here to adopt anyone,” she settled on rather primly. 

But the young, future dark lord only gave her a look that gave away his desire to ask "Then why on earth are you here lady?"

Harriet tried to use her best Aunt Petunia voice as it always managed to intimidate her when she was younger. “And just who might you be then?” 

“You never said you who were and I asked first.” He retorted rather sharply. But he also crossed his arms and Harry was suddenly struck with how absolutely adorable he looked. It was hard to be terrifying with his big eyes and slight pout. 

He certainly didn't look like he was a future mass murder. He actually reminded her a bit of the little boy from-

An idea popped into her head and then immediately left her mouth the very next second. 

“I’m Mary Poppins. And you?”

He gave her a long, scrutinizing look. “I’m Tom. Tom Riddle.”

It was one thing to know it and another to hear him say it aloud. She truly was here in the 30s talking to Voldemort as a child. It wasn’t one of Dumbledore’s memories or nightmare - she was here and this was very much real. 

"It's nice to meet you, Tom Riddle," she stuttered out. She suddenly felt very foolish - he was a freaking child, damn it! The devil's spawn, sure, but still a child. 

He looked back at the yard as if he were looking for someone but quickly turned back, unsatisfied with what he saw. His arms still crossed, he muttered, "Nice to meet you too, Miss Poppins."

And suddenly, he was nothing more than a brat. "You could at least try to make it sound genuine," she snapped, her inner magical nanny coming forth. 

Whether it was a force of magic behind her words or just the fact that she called him out, Tom Riddle was visibly taken aback. "I- I'm sorry, Miss." 

Standing a bit straighter, Harry replied using every ounce of Mary Poppins power she could, "You call that an apology?" 

Riddle swallowed, then took a moment to really take her in. Harry did her best not to flinch under the... seven-year old's gaze? She hadn't really paid attention to the year when she made her journey back in time. 

Eventually, he dropped his arms and his face became the picture of contrition. "I apologize, Miss Poppins. Please forgive me." 

She didn't buy it for a minute. And neither did Mary. But instead of calling him out again, Harry simply let out a soft sigh, "Apology accepted." She hoped her irritation didn't seep through too much. 

But she was barely done even saying the words when he butted back in. "Why are you here? You never said why." He paused for a brief moment before adding a quick "Miss" to the end. 

And that's when Harry realized that he was still learning all of this - the charm, the manipulation. Tom Riddle was Hogwart's beloved child for a reason. He just needed some more practice first. 

She should go. Just go. A child though he was, she didn't think she could deal with him. Tom Riddle, Voldemort - all of it - was too much. Harry really shouldn't have come here. Time travel was cool, but not like this. She should have just stayed away from all of this. 

...And Tom Riddle was still waiting for her to answer. 

What else was she really going to do? Grimmauld Place and all of its emptiness awaited her back home. Ron, Hermione, and everyone else was busy building their post-Voldemort lives with Auror training and 8th year and politics. While she, Harriet Potter, found a freaking time machine thing and she'd - and she- and...

She couldn't use it to see her parents. 

She couldn't use it to save Sirius. Or Remus or Dumbledore. Or, or, or. 

It wasn't like she could change anything. The future was set and Tom Riddle was going to become Voldemort. And then he'd kill her parents. And then she would kil- he'd die. 

Harry took a deep breath. 

In for a penny, in for a pound. 

"I'm here to teach some very rude children how to behave." She gave him an obvious and disgusted once over. "I think I'll start with you."


	2. Chapter 2

Mary Poppins was not an approved piece of media while growing up at the Dursley’s. 

Uttering anything that could even remotely sound like "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" invoked the wrath of Aunt Petunia. She had thrown a fit when she’d found out they had played it at school on a bad weather day. Of course, little Harriet hadn’t realized her aunt’s outrage was due to the magical aspect of it. For years she’d assumed it was some other reason that only an adult could understand. 

Looking back, Harry realized that she wasn’t too far off the mark. 

But that was then and this is now. Well, now was the past and the past contained a child version of her arch-nemesis. 

And to say that Tom Riddle was offended was an understatement. “With me? But I didn’t do anything!”

“Oh really?” Harry asked in her best posh accent. “Because I was specifically told an absolutely incorrigible boy lived here and was in desperate need of my help. I’m almost certain his name was Tom Riddle.”

“Liar! Mrs. Cole wouldn’t say that about me,” he cried, his hands dropping to his sides in fists. A bit of an angry blush came to his cheeks as well. 

Harry struggled to keep a grin off of her face. "I'm afraid you aren’t helping your case, Mr. Riddle.” She really wasn't sure where she was taking this whole bit, but oh this was fun. 

But all good and fun things must come to an end. Harry noticed one of the orphanage’s staff taking an interest in their little convo by the gate. Unfortunately, the woman quickly decided that Harriet, in all her 90s glory, probably wasn’t a respectable person to be talking to. 

Looking back down at Riddle, Harry tried to wrap things up. 

“But I think I’ve come to the conclusion that you are an absolutely hopeless cause and my time is better served elsewhere.” 

With a quick wave and a false smile, Harry gave a “Cheers!” and dashed off down the road. 

She didn’t look back. 

And she didn't go home yet either. 

This wasn't like the time-turner from her third year; she was in a completely different era! And what harm could there be simply strolling along London's streets? Sure, London was still London, but at the same time, it also ...wasn't? It reminded her a bit of walking through Diagon Alley for the first time - everything was off and weird and wonderfully strange. 

...And it was also New Year's. 

A large, brightly colored banner hung at the far end of the street. "Happy New Year 1935!" 

However, a quick glance at a newspaper confirmed that it was actually New Year's Eve. 

Like a lot of other things that Harry had missed when she took a leap of faith and dove into the past (i.e. her invisibility cloak, money, and a plan), taking a look at the exact date on that shiny dial wasn't one of them. She vaguely recalled reading "December" and "1934" and not much else.

She wondered if there was something magically significant about it being New Year's Eve. There were some in the Wizarding World that believed the solstices were more magically powerful days. Maybe the same was true about the end of the year and/or the beginning of the next? Could be why the time machine thing was set to this date. 

Could be, but who knows, she thought with shrug. All of this was just so strange. 

Then it hit her. 

Today was Voldemort's birthday. 

His birthday. The day he was born. The day that Merope Gaunt birthed the spawn of Satan. 

His freaking birthday. 

Harry stopped short, causing a passerby to nearly run into her. She ignored the look he gave her as he passed. She ignored the looks that other people were starting to give her too as she stood stock still in the middle of the walkway. She ignored everything really. 

Harry didn’t know why this little bit of information freaked her out for much. Everyone had a birthday, literally everyone. Even mass murdering, evil, vile, and downright horrible wizards. 

As much as she’d like to think that Voldemort just appeared out of the ether one day, that’s not quite how that all worked, was it? 

An image suddenly appeared in her mind - Voldemort (as she knew him) shrunk down to the size of a child with a birthday cap on his head, large cake in front of him, and sparkling streamers on all sides. 

But then she remembered that Tom Riddle probably never had a real birthday celebration. She had no idea what the orphanage staff did for the children, but she doubted it was anything like the party Dudley always had. 

...Probably closer to how the Dursleys celebrated her birthday. Or didn’t. 

Harry felt a twinge of- 

No. Nope. 

She wasn't going to think about this. No, not at all. She was going to just enjoy being in the past, taking in the sights, and not think about it being the dark lord's birthday. 

She’d think about other things, less distressing things. 

Like how the weather was still relatively nice despite the winter cold. And how it looked like there would be clear skies tonight too. All in all, she thought, it was quite a lovely night for a New Year’s celebration. 

The sun was starting to set and more and more people began taking to the streets in their dress wear, heading to pubs and parties. 

Music poured onto the street from one flat that she passed. Whatever party was going on there was already in full swing. The front door was wide open and a steady stream of people entered, ready to join the fray.

Harry gave a thought to party crashing, but as she approached, she found that she didn't really want to be around people. 

Like a lot of things, she blamed Voldemort for her sudden melancholy mood. 

Despite this, she wasn't quite ready to go home. Being alone in the present almost seemed worse than being alone in the past. 

So instead, Harry wandered until she made it to Hyde Park. It was rather empty at the moment, but she knew that as midnight drew closer, people would migrate some of their festivities outside. 

She didn't know how long she'd stayed out there. At some point, she cast a warming charm on her coat. And when her stomach growled, she ignored it. 

She eventually just found a bench and sat. And thought. And tried to think of anything and everything that wasn’t related to her life. 

Even though things were undoubtedly much, much better for the Wizarding World at large these days, it often felt like she didn’t have a place in it anymore. She’d done her job, and everyone was supposed to move on, right? 

Except Harry couldn’t. She wanted to, desperately so, but it felt like she was just waiting. She didn’t know what was coming next, but something big and terrible was surely around the corner. 

This peace couldn’t possibly last. 

And she hated thinking that. Absolutely despised the fact that those thoughts were in her head. 

It’s probably why she jumped headfirst into the past without a second thought. It was stupid and dangerous and completely reckless. And it was exactly what Harry needed at the moment. 

But what was the first thing she thought to do when she arrived? Let’s go find Voldemort as a kid because... why not? 

Their little interaction today replayed inside her head and Harry suddenly felt very guilty. The future Dark Lord or not, she'd been straight up mean to a child for no real reason. And on his birthday no less, her conscience chided. 

Harry sighed loudly. She really needed to go home. 

Heading back to where her little adventure began, Harry found her feet had taken her once again to the same street as Wool’s Orphanage. 

Looking at the dark, uninviting building brought an uneasy feeling in her chest. A gust of cold, December wind came through causing Harry to shiver. Dumbledore's memory didn't quite capture the truly depressing nature of it all. 

“Just go home, Harry,” she told herself. Go home and eat and rest and...

But in the next instant, Harry raised her wand and quietly cast a disillusionment charm. The voice in her head telling her that this was very much a bad idea sounded suspiciously like Hermione. But unfortunately for her friend, her words of advice usually went unheeded. 

Harry wasn't sure how she'd find him. 

When she first entered, she just followed the sound of children and general noise to a common room area on the first floor. The children had apparently been given permission to stay up until midnight, though Harry caught a few of them curled up on a couch fast asleep. 

But he wasn’t in there. 

Harry wandered through the rest of the main floor. He wasn't in the kitchen (evidently that was where the real party was happening as alcohol was flowing freely between all of the staff). She checked the other playrooms and dining hall, but he wasn't to be found in any of them. 

And that's when Harry realized that she was looking in all the wrong places. Even as a child, young Voldemort probably thought staying up until midnight on New Year's Eve was beneath him. 

Thankfully, even though it had been almost two years since she'd seenDumbledore's memory, Harry remembered exactly which room was his. She climbed the shabby staircase, giving half a thought to the rabbit that had, or would, hang there. 

She stilled when she got to his door. 

Would he be awake, sitting on his bed and staring like a demon-child from one of Dudley's horror movies? Would he be asleep? Would he be there at all?

Taking a deep breath, Harry slowly opened the door.

...and discovered that her fears were unfounded as the boy-who-would-be-Voldemort was fast asleep. 

There was even a peaceful look on his face, an innocence that he could probably never manage while awake. 

Well, his face was peaceful but his bed was an absolute war-zone - his head hung halfway off the bed, the pillow was at his feet, and the sheets were tangled around his torso. For a future dark lord, he sure slept like a normal child. 

As she approached the bed, one of the floorboards protested her insane idea and gave a loud creak. 

Harriet froze, but Riddle didn't stir. Didn't shift. Didn't wake. 

She dared to move closer. She really didn't know why she was doing this or even what she was going to do. 

Or maybe she did. 

Here was an orphan whose birthday no one cared about, no one celebrated, spending the day as if it were any other; nothing important, nothing special. 

It sounded a bit too familiar. And it caused that uneasy feeling to settle right back in. It was made worse as she thought about how he'd never have a Hagrid to make him a cake, or a Ron or a Hermione to send him gifts. And without friends, Hogwarts would be a really lonely place during the winter holidays too, her brain unhelpfully added. 

Harriet understood why he went to bed instead of staying up with the other children. They weren't his friends; none of them probably knew or cared about what today was. 

But she wasn't his friend either. In fact, she was probably the furthest thing from it considering, well, everything. 

And then there was the fact that she killed him. Her friends would argue otherwise, but in the end, it was her Expelliarmus that caused his Avada Kedavra to rebound back at him. 

But no, she wasn't doing this because she felt guilty. And she wasn't doing this out of pity either. 

Harriet crouched at the side of the bed. 

He looked nothing like the monster he'd become. She couldn't find a single trace of it, not even the smallest hint. She didn't even see the future teenage diary version of him either. 

Even cut short, his hair was a bit of a mess, which probably helped his innocent look. Harry had a sudden urge to reach out and smooth his errant locks, but she held back. 

Harmless, now that was the right word for him - in this moment at least. He was harmless because he was a child and nothing more. 

But he would be that monster one day. He would torture and kill and try to make her life as miserable as his own. She would be an orphan because of him; she would die in the Forbidden Forest because of him. 

A clock ticked softly on his bedside table. It was almost midnight and Harriet needed to leave. 

She couldn't change the past. 

But there was one thing that she could do, one thing that she could give him - a gift from one miserable child/orphan/person destined for greatness to another. At least, it was something that she wished someone gave her when she was his age. 

Harry leaned forward, and in the smallest whisper said,

"Happy Birthday, Tom Riddle."

She paused, waiting for some sudden catastrophe to occur - the universe’s reward for foolishly doing whatever this was. 

But it didn’t. And he slept on. 

It was time to go. 

Harry stood, and with her destination in mind, disapparated with a soft crack. 

Tom Riddle didn’t dream. Or at least, he didn’t ever remember dreaming. 

But as he awoke to a new year, Tom thought he may have dreamt something pleasant. Something that included the whisper of a birthday wish in his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us hope that it doesn't take me until New Year's Eve 2021 to post the next chapter!


End file.
